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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418262">A Born Coward</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodoxical/pseuds/zerodoxical'>zerodoxical</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A3! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, but yeah, i mean...i did mention homare and the others are There, mainly just them lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:09:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodoxical/pseuds/zerodoxical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The red string of fate. Such a thin thread, and yet within it lies fate itself. But Furuichi Sakyo refuses to acknowledge what it had decided for him. And so, he attempts to defy it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Furuichi Sakyou/Tachibana Izumi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Born Coward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Again, this is something I wrote for Amino,, I barely have the time to write something that's not for something lol. But that doesn't mean I didn't have fun writing this because I definitely did!! So I hope you all enjoy it too, aha.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They say you shan’t defy fate. </p>
<p>But it didn’t stop him from wanting to cut the stupid red string of fate that connected the two of them. He didn’t know why he kept denying it; it was obvious he was in love with her. Hell, even the string thought so too, which was why it bounded them together. But perhaps it was his own self-hatred, thinking he was unworthy of her love and attention. Even if the string told otherwise, he made it a habit to cut the string every morning he rises from his bed, his pair of scissors growing blunter and blunter by the day. He found it strange, actually; how it was so easy to just cut it off with just your regular pair of scissors, but in the morning it’ll somehow connect itself back to its original state. Why bother be so easy to cut if it’s just going to fix itself back together again?</p>
<p>"Oh, Sakyo, you simp. Do fate a favour and wholeheartedly accept them with open arms, will you?" the words of the obnoxious poet resonated within him but, expectedly, he refused to listen to his words. He didn't listen to anyone – not even himself – and only thought of cutting the damn string and denying his feelings for her. You could've mistaken him for a mule because of how stubborn he was. The only difference was that Sakyo is a presentable and good-looking 30-year-old while a mule is…hairy and walks on all fours. Not to say a mule can’t look presentable and good-looking. A Sakyo couldn’t possibly be hairy and walk on all fours. Such a scene would burn the eyes when beheld.</p>
<p>“Shut the hell up,” Sakyo absentmindedly said to himself aloud, cursing himself right after the realisation. Luckily enough, he was all alone in his room, at what seemed like 6 in the morning. He remembered; he was in the process of his daily routine. Cutting the damned (“fated” sounded mocking - if fate was always right, why was that string there in the first place?) red string. Even his usual pair of scissors had grown blunt, weary and tired of its owner's denial and refusal to acknowledge his true feelings. It wasn’t that worried that it was damaged; all scissors are fated to rust someday, but the human heart should strive to be healthy for as long as the owner lives. The blonde wasn’t just damaging his treasured scissors, but also his heart. His own feelings and emotions. Like he’ll ever admit that either.</p>
<p>He grabbed his scissors and readied himself to cut the string. He did this every single morning ever since the first time it appeared yet he could never shake off the nerves he felt every second before the string was cut. As if something morbid will happen right after, even though such a thing has never happened before. Every time the scissors’ blades make contact with the string, he feels chills being sent down his spine, a gift from the string to him. He rarely gets frightened or chilled to the bone, but the string secretly gives him creeps. But he had to muster up all his courage to cut it (yet he couldn’t muster up the courage to confess to the woman of his dreams. ‘Tis the life of a coward, ironically enough).</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>The string didn’t break off.</p>
<p>Instead, his scissors instantly broke into two, almost injuring himself in the process. He froze; only his eyes widened out of bewilderment. Every single muscle in his body refused to cooperate, as if to punish him for all the refusals he’s ever done before. The string dangling from his right pinky seemed to mock him - a mere strand of red broke a pair of scissors in two. A simple red string… it has always been so <em>mocking. </em>And the fact people just accept it is fate’s doing (meddling, more like) is simply preposterous to him. What was this string, connecting people without their permission and deciding who they’re better off with? Such childish arguments ran through his mind, to make himself understand what just happened. But that’s the thing - he’ll never understand. Because he doesn’t understand fate.</p>
<p>"What…the hell…?" he managed to whisper to himself, yet the shock in his whole body remained. He could feel his body slightly shaking (or was he swaying?) from fear - his days of cutting the red string was over. Just like that. It grew tired of all the denial and refusal and it’s now fighting back. And Sakyo didn’t like that; he <em>hated</em> that. But his fear overpowered his hatred and he couldn’t rage even if he wanted to. The shivers down his spine intensified despite it being in the middle of summer and the sun was in a rage, even during the earliest of mornings. It felt like winter had embraced him and slowly choked him, alongside filling him with fear, yet he could still breathe; inhale and exhale, like a normal person would.</p>
<p>“Sakyo-san?” he heard the Director call for him from outside his door, her cheery loud voice booming throughout possibly the whole dorm, to which he sighed. The sigh quickly turned into panic - what if she already found out the string on her finger connected her to him? That was the most likely possibility but as always, Sakyo found himself in denial. Found himself refusing to acknowledge the truth fate has shown him everyday his wakes and every night when he sleeps and it reconnects the two of them. Again, such stubbornness could’ve been mistaken for an animal rather than a human being. That stubbornness made him determined, but at what cost? They were destined to be together, and that also meant they were destined to find out that their strings were connected. But Sakyo, oh dear old Sakyo, he was just too foolish to want to realise that.</p>
<p>“...Coming,” he responded, his voice barely above a shout but still audible nonetheless. He didn’t want to come out of his room; hell, he planned to just coop himself up and excuse it as him being sick so as to not raise suspicion. But he felt guilt weighing on his shoulders, as if he just registered the fact that his actions will cause some sort of harm to both parties involved. It was obvious from the very beginning and everyone (well, except the very person he was fated to be with, conveniently enough) tried their very best to help push him towards her, only for him to push himself back. They were all confused as to why he did such a thing; and maybe he was confused too. Label it instinct but again, that's just one of his many excuses.</p>
<p>It was as if he was awakening from a deep, deep slumber, as if he was frozen for a thousand years and were just now thawed. His limbs ached and screamed for breath; every movement was burning him alive, he felt like screaming himself. But alas, the others would question and fret over him, which was the very opposite he wanted to do at the time. He only let out an exasperated gasp as he turned his body, facing the direction of the door. Each step he took pounded and rang in his ears as if to tell him to stop moving, to stand still and let the ironically wintery breeze embrace him and take him away. But he kept moving, for whatever reason, and he was led to believe he was absentminded then. Nothing felt real and his brain went numb at the thought of it.</p>
<p>The slick, cold metal of the doorknob pierced his hand and slapped him back to life. It was then he noticed he was shaking, shivering. The chills down his back was one thing, but this time, it felt as if ice enveloped his body. And he kept forgetting it was summer instead of winter. He knew fate can be cruel, but this…was out of his realm of expectations. But he had no choice but to accept it; because fate was right all along but he was just too, too stubborn to acknowledge that firsthand. And now, here he was, about to freeze his ass off in the middle of summer. In a way, the thought of it was thrilling. Nobody has died of cold in the summer. Perhaps he could serve as some sort of publicity with his death, even though that possibility was the most morbid thing he has ever thought of. But that was just him being melodramatic and cowardly, as always.</p>
<p>He twisted the knob and was immediately met by a warm hug by none other than Izumi Tachibana herself, the woman of his dreams, the person who he is connected to, both metaphorically and literally. And just like before, he was frozen in place and his limbs refused to answer properly to her hug. It was like a repeat of what had happened before; he couldn’t move excluding his widening eyes in shock. But instead of winter embracing him, summer was, as he expected both because it was literally summer and Izumi was the one embracing him and nothing else could be warmer than her - not even the summer sun, which beat down heat on their entangled bodies, though Sakyo could hardly notice with her arms wrapped around him, holding him ever-so-tightly as if he were about to vanish.</p>
<p>“Why did you do it?” he heard her whisper against his chest, her voice seemingly to imply that she was on the verge of tears. Her tone almost broke him. She didn’t deserve to feel such sadness and melancholy, but the fact that <em>he </em>was the cause of her grief made him hate himself even more. His heart beat anxiously and he wondered if she noticed, considering her head was literally against his heart. Usually, he would blush, being in such a position but the air was heavy and his beloved was about to break down; there was nothing to be bashful about. Instead of answering her question, he punished himself with self-depreciating thoughts in his head; why were you such a coward? Why did you deny all those feelings? Why did you deny her? </p>
<p>
  <em>Why did you defy fate?</em>
</p>
<p>“I…” he muttered, whether to himself or to her, he was unsure of. He felt tears dampening his cheeks, and so soon too. He thought he’d hold himself better, bottle it up better, but he supposed Izumi’s warm tears on his chest, slightly soaking his undershirt but he couldn’t care less, brought out his too. He rarely cried - there wasn’t any reason for him to anyway, other than acting - but his damp and cold cheeks reminded him that it’s fine to feel this way. He felt...good. Invigorated. As if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, despite the problem he was currently facing: answering her question. He let his mind simmered for a bit and his tears stream down his cheeks and drip onto the floor melodramatically.</p>
<p>“...I’m sorry,” Izumi spoke through tears, her grip on him loosening, yet he felt her warmth growing rather than shrinking. She stepped back to look him in the eye, and Sakyo saw determination and passion burning in her eyes, as usual. The only difference was that there were tears visible in the corner of her eyes and a proud yet relieved smile that she flashed to no one else but him. Her expression differed from her words and he wondered if that was intentional or not. Her tears made her eyes sparkle more, strangely enough. They always have, but they glimmered more with the glistening tears in their corners. He had the urge to wipe her tears away but fought it, as he feared it’d attract attention (plus he was too shy to make such a move, even given the situation).</p>
<p>“Huh? What are you sorry for? If anything, I...I’m the one who should be apologising,” he managed to speak, to his surprise but he was glad either way. His tone wasn’t different from his usual stern and cranky voice but it somehow also had a tinge of guilt and, he dared thought, love. Compassion. Tenderness. Why didn’t he do this often? Being gentle and tender with his words was unexpectedly nice and pleasant...it’s no wonder Tsukioka acts as such all the time. But then again, the winter troupe’s leader’s patience is comparable to that of a saint. Hell, maybe a saint would question his sanity and patience, or mistake him for a literal angel (which is fitting, considering how his first lead as Tsumugi Tsukioka of the Mankai Company was as an angel).</p>
<p>“I...I wasn’t observant enough. I didn’t know you were suppressing your feelings. I mean, I did know, I had my suspicions but...I never really acted on them. Haha, get it? Act…” she tried to lighten up the mood but it only resulted in more tears streaming down her cheek. Even then, she was ethereal; as if she was a goddess, and he was a mere human watching from below. But she was <em>his</em> goddess. The red string between them proved that much. They were on the same level (acting aside). They were equals. Initially, he thought she was much stronger than him, bolder than him,but she was just as afraid. As much as he hated to admit it, that fact reassured him. It made him feel less bad. He wasn’t the only coward.</p>
<p>He only chuckled back and slowly wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in an embrace (warm or cold, he didn’t know). She was startled at first - Sakyo Furuichi, initiating intimate physical contact? She thought that could only be a dream. But as far as she was concerned, dreams come true. Miracles happen. For as long as fate is there, as long as the red string connects people, miracles will happen every single day. An abundant amount of miracles already happened in that one day. It was only a matter of time. If it wasn’t for the two of them being such cowards, maybe such a day could’ve come sooner. But perhaps the fact it happened much later makes it even more rewarding.</p>
<p>“Let’s be honest to each other from now on, okay? I...love you. Sakyo,” Izumi whispered and smiled as she rested her head on his shoulder (he wasn’t that tall; or maybe she wasn’t that short. Who knows for sure?). Time seemed to freeze in the midst of it all. The sound of numerous footsteps nearing Sakyo’s dorm room and the gasps (and cheering) of their fellow dormmates fell on deaf ears. Nothing else mattered; why should they matter, when all they needed were each other’s warmth and each other’s heads on their shoulders? Even the slight tingle of the red string between them as it disappeared went unnoticed. But fate wasn’t agitated in the slightest. On the contrary, it was elated. ‘Finally,’ it thought.</p>
<p>“I-I love you too. And I’m sorry,” he stuttered, which brought a giggle out of her. Said giggle sent butterflies down his stomach but he didn’t mind them one bit. They were beautiful butterflies - very much welcomed and pleasant. The both of them felt a bit giddy then, but Izumi was the one to lift her head and plant a kiss on his lips as he only froze in shock. By then, the cheering and gasps only intensified but she could only smile at the reactions. Her smile against his lips was sweet; she probably put on some sweet lip gloss or lipstick (he didn’t know the difference), ironically without knowing she was about to end up using it for good. He smiled too and kissed her back, despite his irritation towards the others for not giving them and respecting their privacy.</p>
<p>Fate knew what it was doing, connecting two cowards together for an eternity.</p>
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